


Touch

by witchymarvelspacecase



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 13:14:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17940383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchymarvelspacecase/pseuds/witchymarvelspacecase
Summary: You’re an officer on the Enterprise. You love your job, and your friends, but there’s one thing you struggle with.





	Touch

**Author's Note:**

> I have no GODDAMN clue where this came from, but here it is...
> 
> Warnings: Cursing, mentions of childhood trauma, mentions of abuse, mentions of rape, little bit of fluff.

You’d done plenty of frightening things in your life. You’d been through more harrowing situations then should be possible for anyone your age, but despite that, living on the Enterprise topped your list of terror. 

It wasn’t the missions that scared you most. No, it was just being on the ship. 

It wasn’t that anyone was cruel. They usually weren’t even rude. Somehow, that was the problem.

Being on a ship, even one as large as the Enterprise, for an extended period of time, brought people together; it made the crew into a family. Which wouldn’t have been a problem for most people. Just you.

Your fellow crew members were constantly touching one another. Not in a romantic way, at least not most of the time, but everyone was tactile. With the exception of Spock, who was only tactile with certain crew members, everyone seemed completely comfortable casually brushing up against one another, resting hands on shoulders, or even hugging. Which was a problem for you.

Normally, it wasn't too big of an issue. Your job kept you away from the majority of the crew, and you only had to report to your superior, who was totally okay with you submitting written reports at the end of your shift. You were good at your job, and were never brought up on any disciplinary actions. No one needed to pay you any attention, and you did your best to keep it that way.

Unfortunately, fate intervened.

_ When the ship was hit during the Romulan attack on Vulcan, several of your teammates were killed. You weren’t the only tactical officer left, but you were the most experienced. You’d been on a ship, and operating the weapons systems longer than the others on board; that left you in charge.  _

_ The ship’s weapons had been largely ineffective against the monster ship, and were now non-functioning;  your defenses crumbling. Communication with engineering was spotty as much of the ship still had to be assessed, but so much of your system was offline that the Enterprise, and everyone on board, was a sitting duck. _

_ A quick, probably rash,  decision had you sending a message to the helmsman and sprinting in the direction of the shield generator. You knew enough about the system that if it wasn’t too  _ physically _ damaged, you hoped you could get it functioning again. And after what felt like hours, you did get it working; if only a little.  _

_ Engineering was still out of contact, so your next stop was ship’s phaser banks. 2 banks out of the 6 were completely out of commission, and you were only able to force 3 out of the remaining 4 to cooperate; half was better than none at least. The photon torpedoes were unreachable from your position, and though engineering would be able to get to them, you weren’t optimistic.  _

_ “Deflector shield generator is functional, but needs to recharge completely, and is only working at 60%.  3 of the 6 phase banks are operational again” you relayed into the com as soon as you reached your station again.  _

_ “Who is this?” Came Spock’s reply. Not what you were expecting. _

_ “Lieutenant L/N, sir,” you replied. _

_ “Where is Lieutenant Commander Jensen?” _

_ “Dead, sir. There are only a handful of us left.” A pause followed that comment. Using the break, you sent the few tactical officers left out to stay by the phaser banks and generator, with brief instructions on basic repair. There weren’t many tactical officers left, but the weapons and defenses  _ needed _ to stay operational.  _

_ Vulcan was gone. Captain Pike was a hostage. And last you’d heard, your friend Jim Kirk had been forced off the ship.  _

_ “What is the status of the torpedoes?” the helmsman asked, breaking the silence. _

_ “I was not able to access them, but I am not gonna hold out hope that they’re operational in any way,” you said. _

_ “Wait,  _ you _ accessed them?” A third voice asked, sounding incredulous.  _

_ “Engineering is already overwhelmed, and I know how to run the systems, sir.” That seemed like an odd thing to surprise an officer. Or maybe it wasn’t. The first Chief Tactical Officer you’d worked under had made a point of making sure you could run the systems in your sleep. He’d expected you to be able to fix something if a problem arose, so you figured it out.  _

_ On top of studying ship weapons and defenses, and battle tactics, you’d had you nose in engineering texts and had sat in on more than a few lectures. You had thought that was normal, though Commander Jensen hadn’t been as demanding as your first CTO.  _

_ “Lieutenant, report to the bridge,” Spock ordered and ended the transmission. _

“What?!”  _ You thought in a panic. It made no sense to call you to the bridge. Perhaps what you’d done  _ was _ odd. Nevertheless, you made your way, as quickly as possible, up to the bridge.  _

_ Though when you arrived on the bridge, another drama was already underway. Seemed that Kirk had found a way back onto the ship. You hadn’t thought that was possible, but the man who’d arrived with Kirk was apparently capable of it. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t interested to hear more about him, but before you could ask anything of anyone, Spock had Kirk by the throat. _

_ You had almost jumped in to help, not thinking. But Spock’s father stepped in instead. You were a little shaken. You didn’t initiate contact, with anyone, for any reason, but when you’d seen Kirk in trouble, for some reason you hadn't thought. Shaking your head to clear it, you realized that Dr. McCoy was talking. _

_ “-no captan and no goddamn first officer to replace him.” _

_ “Yeah we do,” Kirk panted, his breathing still rough as he sat in the captain’s chair. You felt like you were missing some information. _

_ “Pike made  _ him _ first officer,” the helmsman, Sulu said, gesturing at Kirk. Your eyes widened. Yep, there was a  _ lot _ you were missing. _

_ Everyone slowly settled back into their stations, and Kirk made an announcement over the PA. You were heading after the monster ship. Of  _ course  _ you were, you sighed. _

_ “Y/N, what are you doing up here?” Kirk asked. When you looked over at him, he was watching you with a quizzical look. _

_ “I don’t really know, I was called up here,” you shrugged, then belatedly added, “sir.” Not used to thinking of James Kirk as an officer, let alone your superior.  _

_ Kirk waved the “sir” away. And Sulu spoke up. “Spock called her up here. She fixed the phasers and shield generators. By herself.” _

_ Kirk’s eyes widened as he turned from Sulu, to face you again. A smile growing on his face. _

That was how you’d become CTO of the Enterprise. 

The position wasn’t bad, but suddenly, you were in contact with  _ many _ more people. Not just all the officers you commanded, but Sulu, and Scotty, the chief engineer, as well. 

Add on the fact that Kirk knew you, and you were becoming a regular fixture on the bridge. That made you incredibly uncomfortable. 

You’d met Kirk in academy. The two of you had been on different tracks, and you had arrived long before Kirk did, but his aptitude had him placed in several of the same courses as you. He’d been a menace from day one, but though you would like to say you would have prefered he leave you alone, that would have been a lie. Your life may have been easier without him, but it would have been much more boring as well. You definitely wouldn’t have laughed, or smiled as much.

And it wasn’t that you didn’t actually enjoy spending time with the bridge crew, because you did. What you didn’t enjoy, was the confused, and almost hurt looks on their faces when you would shy away from even an incidental touch. The looks hurt, especially when they were on Jim’s face. So you began to distance yourself. 

If called upon, you would send one of your officers in your place, claiming you were busy. The officers were usually happy to have a reason to visit the bridge and spend even a little time with the captain, and you got to stay in your safe place.

When you’d been in academy, your touch aversion wasn’t as acute as it was on the Enterprise. You’d been able to accept light, brushing touches from a select few people then. James Kirk had been one of the few. 

You’d been assigned to a ship and deployed before he was finished with academy, before the Nerada. As a result, Kirk wasn’t around for the  _ incident _ that had set your touch aversion back so far.

You did your best to muddle through. You couldn’t let the discomfort, the  _ fear _ , control your life. Though you minimized contact with other crew where you could, you couldn’t do that everywhere. You almost bit your tongue off in order to get through the contact required for the medical examinations, knowing that if you didn’t comply, you could be forced to leave the ship. You could tell that Dr. McCoy noticed your discomfort, but he never asked, and you didn’t volunteer any information. 

The one person you  _ did _ talk to, oddly enough, was Spock. 

...

“I have noticed that you have been avoiding the Captain lately,” Spock said, in what passed for a conversational tone as you entered the turbo lift one day. He had already been on, presumably on his way down from the bridge to a lower deck. For part of a second, you thought about turning around and taking another route down to your station, but you weren't  _ that _ much of a coward.

“I’m not avoiding the Captain,” you hedged.

“Perhaps not the Captain in particular, but you do avoid the bridge. Why?” Spock asked with a slight head tilt.

“It’s not a big deal.” You really hoped that the Vulcan would let this go.

“Your behavior indicates otherwise.” Did he just give you the eyebrow raise? You’d only seen Jim get those before. 

Despite part of your brain wanting to comment on The Brow, you looked down. What Spock was asking about was dangerously close to a conversation you’d hoped not to have, with anyone.

“You appear uncomfortable,” Spock observed.

“I am,” you sighed, “What you are saying isn't wrong, I just… I don’t like talking about it.”

“About your avoiding the bridge?” That was  _ definitely _ an eyebrow raise. If you weren’t so fucking uncomfortable, you would have said something, but you were too busy panicking.

“I don’t- I’m not avoiding the bridge. I’m avoiding the people on it.” For you, there was a difference between the two, though it didn’t make much sense when you said it.

“I’m afraid I do not understand.”

“Everyone’s so… close on the bridge,” you said, hoping that was enough, but Spock continued to watch you, clearly expecting more of an explanation. “Everyone is  _ touching _ .”

Spock looked confused, but he still didn’t speak, so you continued.

“I’m not good with touch. I don't- I really don’t like the  _ pity _ that comes along with explaining  _ why _ I don't like touch, so I don’t talk about it.” Your words came out quickly, and in a jumble, as if they were forcing their way out.

“I see,” he said finally, “in an effort to avoid an uncomfortable conversation, you are choosing to avoid contact entirely.”

“It sounds ridiculous when you put it like that,” you grumbled, feeling like an idiot.

“How else could I have phrased it?” Spock asked.

“I don’t know,” you shook your head, looking down. “Look, I just don’t want to have this conversation with the Captain, okay?”

“I believe I understand your reasons, but the Captain is - upset by your absence. I believe he thinks you are avoiding  _ him, _ ” Spock said as the lift doors opened. “It is not my place to say, but I do not believe he aims to make you uncomfortable. I believe it would be wise for you to speak with him.” Spock walked away then, leaving you alone in the lift as it descended to your destination.

It had been  _ years _ since the incident _ , _ but you still couldn’t handle being touched. Most days, you were just frustrated by it, though some days you hated yourself for it. As you stewed in what Spock had said, you hated everything.

You didn’t go to Jim right away, though a part of you wanted to. He was your friend, and you didn’t like thinking that you were hurting him, but you needed to get yourself straightened out. 

You went to the ship’s counselor. You told them what had happened, explained your problems, and then asked for help. 

It was embarrassing. You hated talking about all the shit that had gone into making you the way you were. No amount of assurance that the meetings were confidential, or empathetic responses from the counselor made that any easier. Sharing your past sucked. 

You met with the counselor several times. A few meetings you had to reschedule because you just  _ couldn’t _ talk about anything that day. Sometimes you’d burst into tears. Sometimes you’d raged and yelled. But as you continued to meet with the counselor, the emotions leveled out. The feelings were all still there, the memories still painful, but they didn’t bring you to your knees anymore. Their weight wasn’t unbearable.

The counselor encouraged you to try initiating touch. To find someone you trusted, and make the attempt, but to be patient with yourself if you still struggled.

So you tried.

...

You called Jim when you knew he’d be in his quarters. You wanted to talk to him, but you didn’t want everyone to wonder why. 

Bare moments after calling him, he appeared outside your quarters.

“He-hey. Um, what’s goin’ on?” Jim asked, looking unsure. That wasn’t a look you saw on him often. Most of the time, even if he  _ wasn’t _ sure of something, he would bullshit his way through, faking a confidence that fooled almost everyone. Seeing him unsure made you feel… odd. Though you were the one opening up, you sort of felt like you should reassure  _ him _ .

“Hey,” you replied, stepping back and waving Jim inside. “It’s- I just wanna talk.”

He nodded slightly as he walked past you to sit on the small sofa in your room. You sat on the other end of the sofa. He turned to face you, one leg bent, and resting on the sofa cushion, one foot on the floor; you kept both feet on the floor, not able to make eye contact.

“So, I- I haven’t been on the bridge much lately,” you started. You saw Jim nod out of the corner of your eye. “I need- I  _ want _ to talk to you about it.”

“Okay, I’m here.” You gave a little smile, glancing over at him for a moment.

“First off, I’m not avoiding you. I’m not avoiding  _ anyone _ .” You could see a large amount of the tension in Jim’s shoulders release then. “I’m just,” you paused, your words caught. You cleared your throat. “I- uh. I have a touch aversion,” you said, scowling at yourself. You’d written a speech, but for some reason, it all went out the window.

“Okay, what’s that mean?” Jim asked. His voice was even, non-judgemental, and that helped. As did the fact that he bothered to ask a question; he was listening.

“I don’t like being touched. Hugs, shoulder squeezes,  _ fuck, _ high-fives freak me out,” you said on an awkward laugh. “Or,  guess, it’s not that I don’t like it. I don’t know if I like it now. I didn’t like it for a long time.”

“Can you tell me about it?” Jim asked. You turned your head, looking at him then. He was leaning towards you, but he hadn’t moved any closer. He was leaning his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together in front of him. You thought you saw a slight tremor in them.

You took a deep breath. “I didn’t have a good childhood,” you started. That was an understatement, but it was as deep as you were going for the moment “Got hit a lot. So I tended to be uncomfortable with people moving around me. Especially people I didn’t know. I really didn’t like being touched unless I had warning, or if I initiated it.” Your mom hadn’t been around a lot, when she was, she didn’t really care anyway. Her man of the day/week/month was sometimes ok, but other times… well getting slapped wasn’t the worst thing that happened. 

The academy had been a godsend for you. You’d escaped your childhood home, and begun to make your own life. You’d been healing even. “I had friends at the academy. People I felt comfortable with.  _ You _ . I never had a problem with you. But when I left-” you broke off. Looking down and biting back tears.

“When you graduated?” Jim prompted after a minute. He had been fidgeting in his seat. You knew he wanted to move over to you, to offer comfort, to touch you, but he didn’t want to make you even more uncomfortable. He didn’t know what to do, but he wanted to do  _ something _ .

“Yeah. I, uh- I got called home, before my deployment. My mother was real sick. Like ‘not gonna make it out’ sick. I was her only child, and only living relative, so I kinda had to be there.” 

The trauma of your childhood, you’d come to terms with, for the most part you’d been able to work your way through that mess. What came after your mother died was what was the rope still hanging around your neck. 

“You know you don’t have to tell me about it,” Jim said softly. “I  _ want  _ to know. I want to help you if I can, but you don’t have to tell me if it hurts you.” 

“I know,” you gave him a small smile, though tears were pooling in your eyes, “I know you wont make me. But I think I have to. I have to talk about it. And I want to talk to you.” Uncertainty had you looking in his eyes, and you saw pain there, but you also saw that he still hadn’t moved. 

“Okay,” Jim said. “Can I do, anything? I feel like- like I should be doing something.”

You shook your head. “You’re doing it.” Another small smile. You closed your eyes, took a few breaths, and, keeping your eyes closed, you spoke again.

“There was- a guy that I thought was my friend. When we were younger, he was the one I talked to. He and his sister were my family, basically. When shit got out of control at home, I ran to their house. Their parents were nice to me, too. I felt safe there.” Obviously that didn’t last.

“He was there, when my mom died. I guess his parents must have told him what was happening, cause I hadn’t really talked to him in a long time. I was- I don’t even know. She was dead, and I didn’t care, but I  _ did _ sort of. I didn’t know what to do, or think, or feel. I was drinking. A lot.” You scoffed. There was something Jim would understand better than anyone, drinking when you didn’t feel right. Totally a healthy coping mechanism. “He found me. We started talking. I cried. I felt safe with him still, I guess, and it all just came out. He stayed with me, let me talk, and cry, and drank with me. I felt better actually. But-” you could feel your hands shaking. Your breath caught a little in your throat, and you fought it back. 

You told Jim how the old “friend” had taken advantage of you. You told him about how you’d been too drunk to force him away, how you couldn’t seem to get your body to move. You were ashamed. You were infuriated. Yet you did nothing.

“I filed a police report, but since I had been drinking, nothing much came of it.” You propped your elbows on your knees and dropped your head into your palms, your body deflating. “I just left.”

Jim moved then, he made an effort to keep his movements slow, and obvious as he crouch on the floor in front of you. He didn’t move from that spot until you sniffled and looked up, meeting his eyes. “You know you did nothing wrong, right?”

A watery laugh. “Yeah, I do now. I’ve been talking to the counselor.” You rubbed your eyes, thankful you hadn’t put on any makeup before this talk. “They’ve been helping a lot.”

“Why all of a sudden?” Jim asked quietly. Your brows drew together in confusion. “We’ve been on the same ship for years, but you brought it up now. What happened?”

“Spock happened actually,” you laughed. It was an actual laugh for the first time in your conversation. “He cornered me in the turbolift one day, and asked me why I’d been avoiding the bridge.”

“For an emotionless robot, he’s surprisingly good at reading people,” Jim said with an indulgent smile on his face. You smiled back.

“I actually- I called you, um- I- the counselor told me that I should try talking about it with someone I trust. And that- that I should try initiating touch.” You swallowed, uncomfortable again.

Jim looked at you in wonderment for a moment, and his smile grew. “I’m really glad you trust me,” he said, adjusting to sit on the floor. “Don’t rush yourself though. I’m here for you.”

Your heart hurt and your eyes watered, but this time, it wasn’t in pain. That was it. That was when you had the guts. 

You moved.

Your hand shook, but you reached out. You reached out until your fingertips brushed the tips of Kirk’s hair. It was soft, and smooth. When you didn’t freak out, you pressed further. You ran your fingers through his hair. You were so focused on what you were doing that, it took you a moment to notice Jim’s reaction to this motion. His eyes were closed, all but leaning into your hand, he was practically purring. A hot blush crept across your cheeks, but you didn’t feel the need to pull away.

Eventually, you were on the floor in front of him. “Can- can I hug you?” you asked.

“Of course you can,” Jim smiled, opening his arms as you leaned in slowly. He didn’t wrap his arms around you, not until you asked.

When you leaned in and tentatively wrapped your arms around him, you expected to panic. A little bit of anxiety rose, but it didn’t strangle you. You didn’t feel constricted, or smothered. You just felt warm against Jim’s chest, his cologne tickling your nose a little. “Can you hug me back? Please.” you murmured.

His arms rested on your shoulders for a bit, then they tightened slowly until he was holding you to him. Then he rested his cheek against your temple.

“Is this okay” He asked.

You hummed in affirmation, and the two of you stayed in that position for so long, you couldn’t feel your legs by the time you tried to stand.

...

Not all of your aversion went away, and what aspects of it  _ did _ got away, didn’t go quickly. 

For a long while, Jim was the only one whose touch didn’t cause you to flinch. Slowly though, other people became okay. The bridge crew mostly, but some of your officers as well. Not hugs, those were only acceptable from Jim, but light touches, or pats on the shoulder didn’t phase you much anymore.

Occasionally you would still have bad days. You would pull away unconsciously. You apologized a lot. But every time, Jim would give you an encouraging smile, he’d offer you whatever you needed. He looked so proud of you when you hugged Dr. McCoy one day. 

Maybe you weren’t completely healed yet, maybe you would ever be, but it was okay. You had the Enterprise. You had your crew. You had Jim.


End file.
